BECAUSE he’s become such an all-consuming pop-culture figure, it’s easy to forget that Justin Bieber has a day job like any other artist: making albums. The things we care about with Justin, the list, in order, goes: who he’s dating, his hair, his dance moves, who he’s wearing, his improbable YouTube discovery story, his hair again and, finally, his music.

So if you were to forget all the other stuff about Bieber, the endless tabloid stories, the hordes of screaming teen girls (and three confused guys), and listened to his new album “Believe” in a complete vacuum, what would you find?

Well, a decent enough dance record that’s been produced to within an inch of its life. (His team of producers and studio technicians should have their faces on the album cover.)

Bieber clearly seems to be trying to emulate Justin Timberlake’s career path, going from boyish punch line to credible R&B pop singer.

Only he doesn’t quite pull it off. Even with the requisite rapper cameos by Nicki Minaj and Ludacris to add a little street cred, Bieber doesn’t have the soul or blatant sexuality that the other Justin has. And you still feel like pinching Bieber’s cheeks.